the wall of a jakes with him.—Spare my grey beard, you wagtail?

Corn.
Peace, sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

Kent.
Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege^{4 note}
.

Corn.
Why art thou angry?

Kent.
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these^{5 note},
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
Which are too intrinse t'unloose^{6 note}

That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege^{8 note}, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters^{9 note}

As knowing nought^{9 note}, like dogs, but following.—
A plague upon your epileptick visage^{1 note}!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot^{2 note}

Corn.
What, art thou mad, old fellow?

Glo.
How fell you out?
Say that.

Kent.
No contraries hold more antipathy,
Than I and such a knave^{3 note}

.

Corn.
Why dost thou call him knave? What's his offence?

Kent.
His countenance likes me not^{4 note}

Corn.
No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers.

Kent.
Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain;
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.

Corn.
This is some fellow,
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite from his nature^{5 note}
: He cannot flatter, he!—
An honest mind and plain,—he must speak truth:
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty silly ducking observants^{6 note}

Kent.
Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspéct,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phœbus' front^{7 note}

Corn.
What mean'st by this?

Kent.

To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it^{8 note}.

Corn.
What was the offence you gave him?

Stew.
I never gave him any^{9 note}

And, in the fleshment^{2 note} of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again^{3 note}

Kent.
None of these rogues, and cowards,
But Ajax is their fool^{4 note}

Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks, ho!
You stubborn ancient knave^{5 note}

Kent.
Sir, I am too old to learn:

Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking* ^note his messenger.

Corn.
Fetch forth the stocks:
As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.

Reg.
Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too.

Kent.
Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.

Reg.
Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out^{6 note}.

Corn.
This is a fellow of the self-same colour^{7 note}
Our sister speaks of:—Come, bring away the stocks.

Glo.
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
[His fault^{8 note} is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches^{9 note}

Corn.
I'll answer that.

Reg.
My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs^{1 note}.—Put in his legs.— [Kent is put in the Stocks^{2 note}